


I Find Comfort Here

by VictoriaPyrrhi



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Cuddling, M/M, happy birthday Ngoziu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaPyrrhi/pseuds/VictoriaPyrrhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Bitty realizes, he really needs to think before he speaks and does things like invite his captain home for American Thanksgiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Find Comfort Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ngoziu](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ngoziu).



> Happiest of Birthdays to Ngoziu, who writes and draws the fantastic omgcheckplease, and is just a stand up wonderful human being on top of being crazy talented! Enjoy the cuddlin', and I hope I haven't accidentally rewritten a scenario that's been done before!

\----

Bitty hadn't really intended to go home for Thanksgiving, but there was a rare break in their schedule, and his mom had been dropping hints since September about how nice it would be to see him before Christmas. 

And well, she had asked nicely and he did miss her. He could manage two days at home with Coach for his momma. And her collards. And her cornbread stuffing. And her HAM and--

And what he really hadn't meant to do was invite Jack to come with him. 

But Bitty would have had to have been blind to not see the strain around Jack's eyes recently, frown lines getting deeper around his mouth every time there's another color-commentator blowing hot air about his game--and Bitty's not looking he's just observant is all. 

It's November 20th, and they've just won--a huge game against BC, and they're still talking just nonsense on the TV, and the offer is out of his mouth before he can think about it. 

"Come home with me for Thanksgiving," he says, and oh god what has he done--but Jack doesn't look like he's weirded out or anything, he looks...interested? Bitty latches on to that and forges ahead. "Momma is going to cook, and she always wants to see you, and you just haven't lived until you've had her sweet potato casserole. And it's so WARM, and--" god he's babbling and he knows it, but Jack's giving him this little half smile. 

"Sure." 

Bitty kind of feels like he's been checked hard, but he smiles back and tries to think about how he's going to tell his mom that he's bringing Jack Zimmerman home for the holidays. 

He definitely doesn't blush when Shitty waggles his eyebrows egregiously at him later. 

\---

His mom is thrilled when he tells her and Coach seems politely interested, and Jack seems pleased that they were able to get seats together for the flight back to Georgia. Bitty kind of feels like he's going to throw up when he thinks about it too much. 

Flying into Atlanta feels like coming home, and Bitty can't help the laugh that escapes him when Jack steps outside for the first time into the Georgia fall. He lasts a full five minutes before he shucks his coat and beanie and shoots Bitty a betrayed look. 

"Told you the weather was nice," he smiles, and Jack rolls his eyes. 

"Bittle it's 10 C out. This isn't fall."

"Welcome to Georgia!" he says, serene and a little smug as they pick up the rental car. His momma had offered to come and get them, but he knew how stressed she was about making sure everything was cooked and the house was all set, and he hadn't wanted to take Coach away from his extra practices. 

The car ride back to Madison is mostly quiet; he sings along with the satellite radio as Jack seems perfectly content to stare out the window. It's been snowing off and on up at Samwell already, but here some of the trees still have leaves, bright reds and golds that seem to get brighter the further away they get from the metro area. They pass fields dotted with giant hay bales--some of which have been festively spray painted by local Scout troops and elementary kids, and it leaves Bitty with a strange sense of familiarity and nostalgia. He half wishes they'd been able to come down earlier so that he could have dragged Jack along on a visit to the Corn Maze. 

When they finally pull into the driveway, Bitty takes deep breath. The house is just like he left it back in August, same old rambling two-story with the wrap-around porch. It's still covered in his mother's leftover Jack o'lanterns, and the annual cornucopia Thanksgiving wreath that his folks had gotten their very first Thanksgiving together is up on the screen door. He's beset by the same feeling of nervousness as he looks at his childhood home and then over at Jack. Who is staring intently at his childhood home oh god, what was he thinking inviting Jack home for Thanksgiving? His father is Bad Bob Zimmerman, for heaven's sake...Jack's used to mansions and fancy holiday parties and Bitty's not even positive that they have a guest room that hasn't been taken over by his mom's craft supplies or Coach's trophies and what if he has to sleep on the couch in the den and...and--

"I like your house, Bittle." 

\--And that was not really what he had been expecting at all, but before he can shut his gaping mouth, the screen door bursts open and Suzanne Bittle is standing on her front porch in all her aproned glory. Her face splits into a grin, and then she's off the porch and a gathering them both into a spine crushing hug. Bitty isn't even sure how his mom can get her arms all the way around them both, but Bitty's cheekbone is definitely being pressed against Jack's collarbone and Jack definitely smells really good and not at all like the musty, recycled air of the airplane. 

Oh, and this is definitely what Lardo had once drunkenly coined, "mombarrassment." Bitty can feel his face heating up. "Momma--" his voice is perilously close to a whine, but it does the trick and Suzanne releases them, still beaming. 

"Oh, Eric sweetie I'm so glad you could make it down, and Jack, honey we were just thrilled when Eric told us you were gonna be joining him for Thanksgiving--how are your parents doing? I was texting Bob last week and--" Bitty lets the sound of his mom's voice wash over him as he trails behind them. The house already smells like food and Coach is already ensconced in his armchair, but he stands and greets Jack warmly. 

Bitty worries that conversation is going to be stilted, but Jack surprises him with previously unknown football knowledge, and a talent for listening intently to Coach ramble. It's surprisingly comfortable, and Bitty can feel so of the anxiety that had crept in seeping away. 

Still, he doesn't mind when his mother rests a hand on his shoulder and asks him if he wants to help her in the kitchen. He looks at Jack, who just gives him a small smile and a nod, and he gratefully follows her into the kitchen. Suzanne goes straight to the fridge and begins rummaging. 

"He'll be fine, you know," she says, and it takes Bitty a moment to realize that she's talking about Jack. 

"Of course he will be, I just didn't want to be a bad host," Bitty protests. His mom peeks her head around the door and gives him a look that he is sure he can't interpret. 

"Did you want to bake with me?" It feels a little like a peace offering, because they both know how terrible they are at sharing a kitchen, but Bitty finds he really does want to. 

"You're gonna make the pumpkin pie if I make the apple?"

"Sounds good, sweetheart." 

\---

Thanksgiving is more family than he'd been expecting. Uncle Jim and his family drove down from Athens early in the morning, and all his cousins drove up from Cairo and he's worried about overwhelming Jack, but the noise and the bustle don't seem to bother him at all. He smiles and tells stories about Canadian Thanksgiving and talks hockey and no one asks him about the NHL or makes snide comments or gives a fig that he's Bobby Zimmerman's son; he's just Bitty's teammate. 

He looks...relaxed, and that makes Bitty happy. They end up shoved next to each other at the "adult" table, and Bitty leans over and whispers, "Watch your fingers." 

Jack blinks, "What?" 

"Bittles are serious about their food. Three years ago Aunt Irma almost took off cousin Kyle's hand for the last piece of Momma's pumpkin pie."

He gives Bitty a skeptical look, but Bitty notices that Jack always looks carefully before he reaches for another roll or piece of ham or turkey. Bitty makes sure he gets the first piece of apple pie. 

It's late by the time the house finally clears out, and Suzanne shoos Bitty and Jack out of the kitchen when they try to help clean up, with a laugh. 

"Y'all go lay down, digest. I'll bring you some cocoa in a bit." 

Jack gives Bitty an incredulous look from the other end of the couch. "It is way too hot for cocoa."

Bitty has never been so affronted. "Jack Zimmerman it is never too hot for cocoa, what is wrong with you?" 

Jack smiles, slow and wide, and it's a little devastating, but Bitty soaks it up. "Yeah, I guess you're right." 

Bitty scoffs, "Of course I am." The living room is dim, not much more light than what's coming off the TV--still playing the UCLA/USC game. Bitty hasn't bothered to change it. He can hear his mom clanging around the kitchen and he slumps a little further into the cushions, letting the inevitable food coma drag him downward. Next to him, he can see Jack rubbing at his stomach. He likes that Jack looks so relaxed and comfortable, likes that he offered to help in the first place. 

"Hey, Bitty?" Jack's voice is so quiet that for a moment Bitty isn't sure he heard Jack correctly. 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks." 

He feels that tightness in his chest again, the one he's not sure how to categorize. He reaches out with one foot, and nudges Jack's thigh. He can feel one large hand wrap around his ankle, warm and comforting. 

\---

Suzanne finishes putting the last of the leftovers up, washes her hands, and makes up two mug of cocoa. She has to stop for a moment at the scene in the living room. Jack is slumped over, drooling slightly on her son's lap, and Eric's head is tilted back over the edge of the couch, mouth open and snoring lightly. 

She smiles a little, sad and knowing, and sets down the mugs. She thinks that Grandma Ruth's afghan is in the guest room; it ought to be enough to keep both of them warm for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> My husband tried to help me title this and all I got were a bunch of suggestions that would work for Thanksgiving porno, soooooo there is that.


End file.
